


and this is how things go

by pumpkinpickles



Series: third time's the charm [4]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Reincarnation, platonic puppyshipping hella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpickles/pseuds/pumpkinpickles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jounouchi, rightfully, freaks out when he finds out that Seto broke into his house and stole every damn thing from there. In the face of a near hyperventilating Jounouchi, Seto replies, rather calmly and stonily, you go back over my dead body.</p><p>-----</p><p>(Or, Jounouchi and Seto reincarnated and under different circumstances, can actually make pretty good friends.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	and this is how things go

The world stays the same.

 

Jounouchi Katsuya still grows up in a house colder than the eyes of the strangers on the street, brings his sister up single handedly and is the only one gifted with her smile.

 

Jounouchi Katsuya’s family still divorces, Shizuka is still torn from him, the sight of her crying face and shrill yells for him the last thing he sees and hears for years and years. 

 

His father still drinks down every penny Jounouchi can scrape together, brown liquid burning his throat that only spills vile words and viler names, burning the back of a child riddled with scars, metaphorically and literally. Broken beer bottles and black eyes become as common as scraped knees and self stitches on his arms.

 

Jounouchi Katsuya still hangs around with the wrong crowd, deriving sick pleasure from the cracks of knuckles against flesh which serves only to feed the monster called apathy gnawing away at his heart.

 

Jounouchi Kastuya still bruises and bleeds, still grins and bears.

 

The world is also slightly different. 

 

Kamiya Seto grows up in a family of four; a sister older than him by nine years with a voice that commands attention matching a gait that demands respect, a brother older than him by six who is wise beyond his years with eyes that can turn cold enough to freeze time itself, and a mischievous imp of a younger brother whose smile is brighter than the sun.

 

Kamiya Seto grows up loved, meets his neighbour with shaggy blond hair and a band aid over his nose when he comes crashing over the fence face first, his sister with auburn hair and a sunhat tearing through the unlocked fence gate moments later.

 

On that day, Kamiya Seto is appointed Chief of the Haunted Land(which was really the shed), saves a princess with a glimmer in her eyes that rivals gold, and makes a friend whose grin is all teeth and no fear.

 

* * *

 

 

Then come the play dates. 

 

Of course, coming along hand in hand with it carrying a picnic basket, were the fist fights.

 

It always starts off with a simple game, then something  _ has  _ to spark an argument between the older brothers, whether it be something as inane as the shape of the cloud overhead or the colour of the teacup Shizuka had laid out for them for her tea parties, that turns into collar grabbing and pathetic name calling (i mean, how good can the names that nine year olds devise be?), which eventually, leads to fists being thrown and younger siblings crying. But they stop soon enough, when they realise it’s more spontaneous fury than long term malice, and turn to betting on who wins instead.

 

Set clicks his tongue every time he finds the boys wrestling in the grass, one yelling at the top of his lungs while the other grunts and huffs, Shizuka and Mokuba on the sidelines cheering for their brothers.

 

There is never a clear winner. They tire themselves out every single time, lying on their backs, wheezing and panting, dirt staining skin and fabric alike, grudgingly calling truce for favour of Kisara’s lemonade. 

 

It becomes an inside joke that perhaps, Kisara was the true winner for being able to so easily put a stop to two young boys’ fight with a mere jug of homemade lemonade.

 

* * *

 

 

Three years later, Seto stands in his house, watching from the front window in horror as the siblings are torn apart, the shouts of one another’s names the only thing that echoes in the street for hours on end; even after the yellow convertible becomes a speck into the horizon, even after the reckless bull in a china house blond idiot Seto claims as a best friend in heart but never in words is whisked away, face frozen and hands shaking.

 

Set sleeps with Seto for nights, squeezed together on the top bunk, stroking his head as he counts to the time of the hammer in his head that slams “HOUSE FOR SALE” into the front yard where Seto knows every bloom and ant hill like the back of his hand. Mokuba whimpers from the lower bunk,  _ where did Shizuka go _ , and Kisara holds him tighter, as if her arms can protect her soft hearted younger sibling from the cruelty of parting.

 

Even behind his closed eyelids, Seto can smell the sticky scent of Summer, feel the grass poking into his back, hear Jounouchi’s unrestrained laughter that ends in gasps and coughs, see the three years he’d spent with the boy who always had band aids somewhere on his legs or face, all those days, nights and time in between.

 

Three years, and that was all.

 

That was all.

 

No more lousy role playing, no more brawls in the backyard over stupid little things, no more blinding smiles and silent promises to watch each other’s back now that Jounouchi Katsuya had been ripped away as sudden as afternoon rain they’d never get caught in together anymore, and taken to god knows where.

No more Jounouchi Katsuya, in general, made Kamiya Seto’s heart sink. He tells himself he’s not crying, and Set pretends not to notice the puddle that forms on his shirt where Seto has pressed his face into.

 

* * *

 

 

Another two years after that, when the city is covered in a carpet of white snow that reaches the slums as slick dirty sludge and Kamiya Seto is not watching where he’s going, he bodily slams into a shaggy blond teen who hisses and sucks in a broken breath through bloodied teeth. 

 

Something spurs Seto to reach out and grabs the arm of the stranger, of one Jounouchi Katsuya, and greets him after years of lost communication with a fierce question about his black eye and broken arm.

 

And Jounouchi responds with a solid punch into the brunette’s face.

 

So two hours and a mad scuffle later, Kisara opens the door to her baby brother with ruffled hair, a swelling cheek and a bloody nose with a blond rascal in a headlock that she remembers blushed whenever she sent him a smile, raises an eyebrow and calls for the most level headed person in the house.

 

Set comes down the stairs two at a time, armed with ice packs and a first aid box, purses his lips at Seto and offers Jounouchi a warm drink and warmer smile that makes the boy squirm in his seat and glare at the polished floor.

 

No one asks any questions, no one even dares speak, until Mokuba bursts into the kitchen and practically catapults himself onto Jounouchi, an odd mix of a wail and a cheer erupting from his throat as he clutches at the blond who pats his head and smiles for the first time since he stepped into the Kamiya house.

 

At the soft insistence from the eldest Kamiya coupled with the beaming smile of the youngest, Jounouchi relents and stays for a game or two, but ends up curled around Mokuba, fast asleep with cards sprawled around them.

 

It takes one look for Seto to know what he needs to do.

 

Before day breaks, Seto slips out of the house, runs down blocks and blocks until he reaches a rundown apartment complex with stairs that strain even under his underweight body, locks that slip and keyholes jammed with gum.

 

His frame trembles as he lets a key tag guide his way, winces at the loud clacking noise of a door unlocking, stifles a cough at the pungent smell of hard liquor that attacks his nostrils and threatens to choke as he stuffs the empty duffle bag he brought with as many items as he can, not that the apartment had much, anyway.

 

Seto thinks his ribcage must be rattling from the wild beats his heart is making, prays that it isn’t loud enough just because it seemed like a right thing to do in his situation, sinks his teeth into his bottom lip so the pain outweighs the one stabbing at the back of his eyes and wonders if this is what he’d let his only friend go through for four years, wonders if he even deserves to call himself a friend anymore.

 

When Seto returns, he tries to sneak into the house unnoticed, but is betrayed by the loud creaking of the shoe closet. He mentally curses the damned closet he’d been asking to get replaced since the dinosaur ages when Kisara catches him by the collar and drags his sorry ass into the kitchen, dumps him in front of a seething Set who sits across him with crossed arms and white knuckles.

 

Set’s eyes do all the talking for him, as Seto mumbles apologies and fumbles through half explanations of why he was in the part of town where people rotted by day and bodies disappeared by night during the wee hours of the morning.

 

Jounouchi, rightfully, freaks out when he finds out that Seto broke into his house and stole every damn thing from there. In the face of a near hyperventilating Jounouchi, Seto replies, rather calmly and stonily,  _ you go back over my dead body _ .

 

* * *

 

The world stays the same, but change is the only constant afterall.

 

Jounouchi Katsuya grows up devoid of love, meets Kamiya Seto who grew up surrounded with it. 

 

Jounouchi Katsuya becomes the storm to Kamiya Seto’s calm, fights tooth and nail for the brunette who in turn wields words as swords for the blond who bruises too easily.

 

Jounouchi Katsuya still calls Kamiya Seto “bastard”, as does Kamiya Seto call Jounouchi Katsuya “loser dog.”

 

But a year later, on their first day to Domino High School, Jounouchi Katsuya enters the school building next to Kamiya Seto, the taller smiling behind his book at a joke the other made. 

 

The world changes, and changing is always sad and hard to accept, but perhaps a change where Katsuya Jounouchi and Kamiya (not Kaiba, in this world he does not inherit the name of a man who destroys everything he touches, in this world he is given the chance to bear his given name proudly) Seto get to be friends instead of enemies would be a change to be cherished.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> do u ever think "yea this is good but not good enough" but u dont have the energy to make it better anymore and u still kinda like it, and besides, nothing is ever good enough so fuck it? 
> 
> yea. that was me writing this fic at the dead hours of the morning. im sorry lmao.


End file.
